I remember enjoying making up plays and running around my grandparents' house in Albuquerque while my mom cooked dinner. My mom told me to make dinner and to get it to the table by 6:00 p.m. because by that time we would have to put on our nightgowns and climb into bed. I would always be excited that it was time to go into my bedroom and put on my nightgown, even though I knew what was coming. I was often the one to do my homework with the radio blaring, and I can't tell you what it felt like to be a kid. I was oblivious to what I was doing, and I honestly didn't care because that's how things were. In hindsight, my mom has made some statements about how she should have insisted that I do more homework earlier on so I could learn to work ahead. But, there's a part of me that knows that nothing in this world is going to help me get better without hard work and determination. It's not going to happen on its own, so I don't hold it against anyone for not doing the work I didn't do myself. If you knew what I was doing, if you could see the pain and the hurt I carried for the years I had a stoma, I don't think you would blame me for not being motivated. There was a lot of stress as I grew older. My parents made me do it because they felt it would be good for me. It made me want to do it as quickly as possible, but it wasn't until college that I realized I could actually go to the bathroom anywhere I wanted to—any place other than the bathroom at home. In college, I would go on campus to work in the cafeteria or in the library with a large public bathroom that was open twenty-four hours. Then I could pee whenever I felt the need to. My friends were great; they didn't care where I went, and they even followed me to the bathroom and waited for me. I was still a bit of a mess, but at least I was able to start getting some semblance of a normal life. Sometimes when I first graduated high school, people would ask if I went on a school trip to the moon. It wasn't until college when they started to realize I was on a mission—one to take care of my body. I wasn't going to let my stoma stop me from going to school and making something of my life. When I started my career in investment banking, I could count on one hand the number of times I was in the bathroom at a desk. At first, the bathroom was in the lobby of my building, and that was enough to make me uncomfortable. I knew the bathroom was there for those who really needed to use it, and I didn't really need it, but when I would come in from running around, it would be the first thing I thought of: that I needed to use the bathroom, but they were there, and I couldn't. I would then realize that the bathroom was actually a few steps away from my desk, and it would send me over the edge. My anxiety would build, and as I would walk down the hallway to the bathroom, my stomach would be in knots, my heart would be racing, and my anxiety would be peaking. I would try to get my thoughts away from the bathroom, but they would come at me from every direction. As I got older, I thought I would deal with it better, but it never went away completely. The pressure was building to go home, and by the time I got there, I would be so anxious and stressed, I would try to calm myself down by peeing. By the time I was at home, everything would be okay again, and I would make it through the rest of the day. I never had a real home in my life, so what did I have to go home to? I went back and forth many times about whether I should be the one to undergo the ostomy surgery to rectify the problem. I knew it would make my life so much better. I would no longer need to go into a bathroom and pee at the office. No one really understands what that's like unless you've been there and done that. The only thing I wanted was to be in control of my life and my situation. To be able to go to the bathroom at work without feeling like I had to go and pee before getting there. For the most part, I couldn't because of my situation. Before the final surgery, I would sometimes spend a lot of time looking into the bathroom mirror, thinking, _What am I doing?_ and thinking about how my life would be better if I wasn't in a state of anxiety and fear all the time. And then I would look into the mirror again and think to myself, _You have nothing to worry about. Everything is going to be fine. You have to be mentally prepared for what might happen._ I am by no means saying I was ready. We all know how it is when we have to do something and we are so tired of being sick, but in my mind, there was no way I would ever have another stoma. No way. I wouldn't go back to that life—I just wouldn't. It was hard, especially with my parents' opinions and everyone trying to be nice. If they saw me having a rough day, they would ask me if I was okay, or they would say things like, "It's going to be hard at the beginning, but it will get better." I kept telling them the truth: it wasn't going to be easy. I was going to need a lot of support. But it was the best decision I ever made. The last thing I wanted to do was bring my baby home to an empty apartment, living off of frozen food, and constantly worried about my health. I knew that at some point I would have a stoma, and that it would bring its own set of challenges. It was a matter of when, not if. With hindsight, I realize how incredibly lucky I was to get to the end of the school year. And, I always felt incredibly fortunate that my body had such a high tolerance for a colostomy. I am the happiest and luckiest person in the world, and the fact that I wasn't forced into it made it all the better. I was lucky enough to have had a nurse who could provide the best care to me at a critical time in my life, and to have met another patient who had a colostomy. Her story was so similar to mine, that I felt like I was finally going to get some answers. With her help, I finally felt like I was taking control of my life and that I wasn't being so naive to think there was a way around it. But it was also important to realize that I wasn't going to be fully cured, and that was okay. I know I would have been able to get over it eventually, but I didn't want to go down without a fight. I wanted to be fully aware of what would happen to me and what it would feel like in the beginning. When I finally went for the surgery, I felt relieved and grateful for what lay ahead. Having been a nurse for so many years, I knew exactly what was going to happen. As I was lying on the operating table, I had the option of having a laparoscopic surgery where I would be able to go home the same day, or I could have a robot-assisted surgery where I would need to stay overnight. Because of my surgery, I couldn't lift anything heavier than twenty pounds. I had to limit how much weight I lifted because of the way it could affect my sutures, and also because of the pressure it put on the stoma. I know there are people who run marathons after surgeries and they make it work, but I knew this wasn't going to be for me. It was a challenge to adjust to walking to the end of a grocery store, but I was lucky to be able to go back to work. My surgery was scheduled for December 10, 2016. The surgery took place on December 13, 2016. By the next day, I was starting to heal, and I couldn't wait to get home. At the time, I was living in an apartment with a small bathroom and no stove. My body was responding and I felt healthy. Once my stoma was out, I moved back in with my parents. It wasn't a long drive to Grand Junction, Colorado. It took a long time for me to get used to the fact that I had a colostomy, and sometimes, it was hard. I've always been able to take care of myself. Now I have a new bag, and it feels like a part of me has been removed and put back in the same bag. It has changed my life. When I was recovering in the hospital, I had a routine. I had to feed myself, so I would feed myself by mouth. Then I would take my vitamins, and I would do physical therapy as well. The physical therapist told me to walk at least four times a day for five minutes. That's all I would do for the first two weeks. I'd go home and crawl into bed, exhausted, because I would always wake up the next day exhausted. Then I would get up and do it again, do it again, do it again. I am still learning new things, and I